Fan Mail
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: Rita's second-best kept secret is in danger of being revealed. one shot.


**Author's Note:** Written for…

Weekly Elimination Weird Prompt Competition. _Prompts:_

Rita Skeeter

Semi-Optional: Xenophilius / Rita writes romance novels

Bonuses:

\- "I hate you." / "No, you don't. You love me. Admit it." (5 pts)

\- diamond hairpin (5 pts)

\- snow (1 pt)

\- Rita wears a color other than green (3 pts)

\- a frog (1 pt)

\- someone mentions unicorns but no one pays attention to what that person says (3 pts)

\- "Did I just step on a turtle?" / "No, no you did not." [character who said second line] sticks the turtle in their pocket. (4pts)

\- sponge cake (1 pt)

 **Fan Mail**

"I'm finished!" Rita sang, bursting through the door of her publisher's office.

An older woman looked up from her desk and sighed.

"Your deadline was two weeks ago."

"I know, but it's fine," Rita assured her. She dropped a thick folder down on the desk and sat across from her. "I just had a touch of writer's block, but it's passed now. Honestly, Natalie, I think this is my best work yet."

"I hope so. Your sales have been dropping over the last few months."

Rita rolled her eyes. "I have a very dedicated fan base, they're going to be thrilled, I know it."

"Still, I think it would be good for you to do some marketing. In fact, I have an interview lined up for you this evening. It's for the Quibbler."

"What? Natalie, I can't just meet with some second-rate reporter. I can't risk her blabbing that best-selling romance novelist Selena Reynolds is really a famous journalist. Which leads me to my second point: _I can interview myself_."

"I'm sorry, Rita, it's not that simple. I had a man in here earlier who insisted he knew Selena Reynolds' real identity."

"Absurd."

Natalie smiled. "Not as much as you might think. He named you, Rita. He wants an interview in return for his silence. I'm sorry; you don't have a choice." She slid a business card across the desk. "That's his address. Be there at seven tonight."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. You love me. Admit it."

Rita scoffed, slamming the office door on her way out.

:-:

"…Can't even be bothered to clear the path," Rita muttered to herself as she worked her way toward Xenophilius Lovegood's door, through mounds of snow.

The door opened before she'd reached it and a surprisingly handsome man held out a hand to her.

"Ms. Skeeter, I'm so glad you could make it."

"I assume you mean as opposed to getting trapped in your garden. Tell me, do you even have a shovel in your possession?" she asked coldly, shrugging off her overcoat and dropping it in his arms. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her cherry red dress as he hung up the coat.

"I'm sorry about the snow. My daughter was home for the holidays and I we were trying to examine a unicorn. Everyone knows unicorns are attracted to snow, so we asked out neighbors…"

Rita took the opportunity to look around the house while her host rambled on. She had conducted enough interviews to know on instinct what needed her attention and what she could get away with ignoring.

The house looked like it hadn't been cleaned for some time. There was a thick layer of dust around the shelves and bookcases of the living room. There was were several cages and terrariums lined up against a wall, which Rita watched just long enough for a frog to try and jump out before she moved on.

"Mind Barney," Lovegood said, following along behind her. He pointed at the ground by her feet where a baby turtle was resting. "He needs exercise. Come, I've made dinner."

The table was only set for two. Rita felt like she was at a five-star restaurant with the crisp tablecloth and expensive dishes and soft candlelight. The food smelled delicious, which was probably the most surprisingly thing about the evening so far.

"I made a sponge cake for dessert," Lovegood said, setting a bowl pasta down in front of her.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked. Her mouth was watering but she refused to eat anything, or answer any questions, or do anything else that would imply that she was going to cooperate with the lunatic's blackmail.

Lovegood paused in the middle of taking a bite of his salad. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Ms. … I'm sorry, do you prefer Skeeter or Reynolds?"

"I prefer you don't lie to me, Mr. Lovegood."

"Please, call me Xenophilius – Phil, even."

"Well I'm sorry, Phil, but if you ask me this is just about your little magazine getting some publicity from my good name."

Xenophilius smiled at her. "You're wearing my pin."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Three years ago I sent you – well, Selena Reynolds a diamond hairpin reminiscent of the one Lola wore in _Midnight Flight_. You're wearing it right now."

Rita fingered the pin, suddenly embarrassed for the way she'd acted. "My publisher didn't tell me who it was from."

"I sent it anonymously. You like it?"

"Yes, thank you. It was very thoughtful." She took a bite of the pasta to avoid talking. It tasted as good as it smelled. "I'm sorry for thinking you had an ulterior motive."

Phil grinned at her. "I understand. My wife … my late wife was a huge fan of your novels. We used to read them together. They helped, after she passed away."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"You don't have to be sorry. It's fine. Anyway, she used to write you letters all the time." He sighed, putting down his fork. "I don't want an interview, Ms. Skeeter. I don't think you'd really fit in with my readership. I just wanted to meet you a-and thank you."

Rita smiled. "I appreciate you reading my books. My publisher seems to think my last few weren't very good."

"Not as good as the first few, maybe, but still good!"

"Listen, I don't want to do the interview either … but I could do with a second opinion on my newest story. I think it needs help and I can't let down my fans."

"Really?" he said excitedly.

Rita laughed at his enthusiasm. "I'll have Natalie send over the manuscript in the morning. Thank you for the meal but I should go now." She patted his hand gently as she turned away from the table, stopping when she heard a crunching sound under her boot. "Oh no. Did I just step on a turtle?"

Phil hurried around the table. "No, no you didn't." She let out a relieved sigh as she watched him straighten up and put Barney in his pocket. "It was a walnut shell, I'm sorry. I should really clean up."

"That's probably a good idea. I'll be in touch."


End file.
